


The Trickster Made Us Do It

by SmackTheDevil



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blow Jobs, Brother/Brother Incest, Come Swallowing, Daddy Kink, Episode: s02e15 Tall Tales, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Gun Kink, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Sub Sam, Thumb-sucking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 20:29:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5839927
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SmackTheDevil/pseuds/SmackTheDevil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after Tall Tales - 02:15</p><p>Dean is feeling victorious, Sam is feeling jealous and depraved..</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Trickster Made Us Do It

**Author's Note:**

> Blah-blah-blah-blah-blah-blah-blah-blah-blah-blah..

Sam had been nursing a face like a slapped ass since they had driven away from the university. Dean was as high as a kite, he had ganked the Trickster and that was good enough for him.

“Another victory.” Dean chuckled, hands drumming away on the steering wheel.

“We're calling them victories now are we?”

“What would you call them? We came, we saw, we kicked its ass.” Dean grinned and waited for Sam to get the reference. “Bill Murray? Ghostbusters? Dude?”

“I know what Ghostbusters is, Dean.”

“Humor me.” 

“I'm not in the mood.”

“What is wrong with you, huh? You've had that face on since we left the campus.”

“Nothing.” Sam just shrugged and let out a long pitiful sigh which immediately made Deans' hackles rise.

“Okay, if that's how you wanna play it.”

Both boys remained silent until they pulled up outside their hotel. The Kings Lair. It was a lair alright, just not one fit for a king, no matter how fancy the bedheads were. It stank of fast food and beer and boy fucking, and Sam was too down in the mouth to care.

“Right.” Dean said, throwing his jacket on the table. “I'm gonna ask you one more time. What the hell is wrong with you? And if you raise those shoulders of yours even so much as an inch, you're sleeping in the bathtub.”

Sam was leaning against the table, toying with the zipper on his jacket.

“I dunno. I just. Why did the Trickster try to trap you with those women?”

“Seriously?” Dean watched his brother carefully. “Don't, don't you dare shrug, because I swear to God, I will kill you myself.”

Sams' shoulders rose the tiniest amount.

“No. Stop it. I'm a virile young man. He obviously thought that those girls with the, frankly, awesome tits, were my bag.”

“That's not how he works, Dean.”

“Wow, Sammy. Are you jealous? Because trust me, I didn't touch those skanks. Real or not.”

Sam moved across the room so fast that Dean was barely able to react.

“Yeah. I was.”

“That's cute, but pointless.”

“Is it?” Sam wedged a thick thigh between his brothers legs, nestling against Deans' dick and the heavy seam of his pants.

“Well, it ain't now.” Dean smirked, seeing the positive side of his brothers' jealousy, he picked at the Ohio Connect badge on Sams' jacket as he felt his entire weight lean into his body. Sam pressed his solid thigh against Deans' now semi hard dick.

“You sure about that?” Sam pressed with both body and mind.

“Well, that ain't a phone in my pants.” Dean chuckled. Sam wasn't laughing. He was doing that weird thing that women do. Being mad and horny at the same time and it confused the hell out of Dean. “I don't know whether to kiss you or pull my gun out on you.” Dean chuckled again, this time nervously.

“Pull your gun out.” Sam challenged. 

“Eh?” Dean would have stepped back, but he was wedged between the sink and muscle. Dean could feel his piece, it was lodged quite uncomfortably against his lower back, the barrel almost working his way between his ass cheeks. “I don't-”

“Pull your gun out and make me.”

“Sammy. I ain't-”

“Do it.” Sam was all determination and tenacity, narrowing his fox-like eyes.

“You want me-”

“Yes.” Sam had interrupted his brother three times now and that was enough for Dean to finally comply. Everything about Sam told Dean that he was serious. And there was no need for explanation, nor planning. Dean was coming around to the fact that Sam had some serious kinks which more often than not threw Dean off completely, leaving him a babbling wreck both before and after whatever depraved act Sam had demanded of him.

Dean hesitated as he pulled his gun from inside his pants, his hips pushing against Sam. The barrel slid against the sweat slick of his lower back, he released the magazine lock with a deft click. 

"No. Leave it in. Adds to the weight." Sam panted. "Just make sure the safety is on."

Dean blinked a few times at the ridiculous comment. 

"I know how to work these things, Sammy."

"Not the way I want you to work it."

Dean was used to the feel of a gun in his hand. Ever since he was strong enough to hold one with a bony arm outstretched, it had, in some ways become an extension of who he was. Survival and defense. Kill or be killed. Yet as Sam melded heavily against his body which was ridged with arousal, the gun felt weird to him. Heavy and cumbersome, taking up room in a hand he would prefer to have gripping Sams dick. It felt warm and sweaty. His gun never felt sweaty in his hand. Even when it was pointed at who or whatever when he was scared, it was always cold and comfortable. 

Sam lifted his clothes, a small line of tan flesh just above his belt.

"There?"

“Make me.” Sam nodded, his voice was breathy and caught in his throat.

It wasn't unfamiliar for Dean to hear 'make me' falling from Sams' lips. Needy little wants muttered over his dick, gripping Sams' hair. Forcing it into his throat. He coaxed the first time, not really used to the extremity of the aggression Sam was pining for. They had a safe word, never used. After a while it became clear to Dean that there was very little off limits. Even now as the barrel of his gun sank into Sams' flesh the boy bore scars. But not from the monsters. Scars made out of lust and love. Bites which left permanent impressions of Deans' teeth between Sams' legs. Rainbow hickeys peppering Sams' back, all in varying stages – yellow, pink, purple and almost black. Knife nicks and nail scratches. And huge hand print welts.

Dean pushed Sam to his knees, the gun now sliding up the boys body, catching on his clothes. Sam tapped his temple. Dean gave him a 'Really?' look. It was why the safe word had never been used. Trust and a deep seated knowing that no two other people share. Sam swallowed, closing his eyes as permission. The whine that started life in the back of Sams' throat, was pitiful as the cold metal of Dean's gun pressed against his temple. Sams' dick was belted, buttoned and zipped away under two layers of cotton and he was glad. Glad he couldn't get at it, glad it was locked up and away, straining and whining itself and soiling his underwear with need.

“Suck my cock. Or-” Dean licked his mouth, tongue over the lips, leaving a shiny halo of spit over the line of his mouth. “-or I will use this.” Dean loosened the grip around his gun for a split second, repositioning for comfort. His other hand fisted Sams' hair. 

This was the way they worked. There was never any question, even when they first touched one another 7 years previously, that Sam would bottom. Sam was doubtful that Dean even knew the reference, but it was natural order for them. It suited their personalities. But really, it was Sam who was calling the shots. One time, Sam had somehow persuaded Dean to sub for him. Too much whiskey and pot was involved. Deans' alpha took over and Sam wound up with a black eye for 4 days. 

Sam unbuckled Deans' belt which shifted Dean's dick, held in place by the brown leather. As the button and zipper came loose under Sams' fingers, Dean hissed at the slow release. Dick now nudging the waistband of his boxers, the thick elastic hooked behind the wet head. Dean deepened the barrel end into Sams' temple further, provoking a soft whimper from his brothers mouth. Sam pushed everything down. Deans' jeans were weighted by the belt, his wallet and cell. The fabric hung around his bowed thighs, buckle jangling between them.  
Sam pulled back the pliant cotton of Deans' boxers, just revealing the head of his brothers' dick. It was crimson and wet and smelled of arousal and a days worth of piss. Dean remained still as he bobbed his dick, still restricted by the elastic cutting across the veined shaft.

“I don't think you're any position to start teasing.” Dean muttered gruffly, pearl-handled weapon steady and held with meaning against his brothers pretty little head. Sam looked up, feeling the slight turn of metal against his skin. He hooked both index fingers into the sweat damp fabric and pulled Deans' underwear down, Sams' knuckles brushed against Deans' sticky balls. The tip of Sams' tongue caught the wrinkled unshaven cleft of Deans' nuts as he licked slowly up the shaft. He flattened his tongue, the width forming a perfect 'cup' to contain Deans' girth until he reached the head, changing the shape of his tongue to a long slender 'point' and curling it around the slit which was heavy with thick pre-come. Sam walked his long fingers around to Deans' ass and held onto it, more for leverage rather than giving Dean anything more. But still he pulled Deans' ass cheeks apart and settled his fingers between them which made Deans' dick involuntary pump out a stream of pre-come. Sam kissed it clean, pulling away and looking up at his brother. String of clear stringy fluid webbing from Deans' slit to Sams' bottom lip. Dean slid his hand from Sams' hair to his mouth, rubbing over his bottom lip and hooking his thumb into Sams' mouth. Sam sucked it like it was a hard, salty pacifier, closing his eyes and almost cooing with pleasure.  
Dean drew Sams' head closer to his cock, dragging the boy with his thumb hooked over his bottom teeth, he deftly replaced his thumb with his dick, pushing Sam onto it.

“Good boy.” Dean muttered, pulling his thumb away from Sams' mouth. Sam suckled the half of Deans' dick that was lodged between his lips, whining loudly. Pleased to have his toy in his mouth. And then Sam heard the safety click off and the rest of Deans' dick disappeared down Sams' throat until the head was punching past his uvula. Playing with fire.

Dean looked down at Sam. His baby brother. The boy who he promised he would look after the moment he clapped eyes on him. Now on his knees. Loaded gun pointed at his temple, sucking off his strong big brother. Playtime for grown up siblings.

Sam clamped his mouth around Deans' dick. Sucking his cheeks in and swallowing against the head. He bucked against Deans' leg and pulled himself against it. Dean felt Sams' cock, so fucking hard against his leg. Boner on bone. As Sam began to bob his head around Deans' dick, he humped against Deans' leg. Getting himself off like a horny little puppy. Dean let the gun drop from his grasp, the barrel sliding down Sams' cheek, close to his mouth and closer still to Deans' own throbbing wet cock. He pushed the metal against Sams' cheek until he felt the pressure through skin, nudging his dick.

“Fuck.” Dean muttered and then watched Sam somehow manage to smirk. Mouth full of fat dick. Little brothers' pay for smirks. Dean drew the gun around to Sams' mouth and did something even Sam wasn't begging for. He pushed the metal against the corner of Sams' already stretched wet mouth. The boys eyes widened but the humping against Deans' leg intensified. Sam retched as the gun slid in next to Deans' cock, he took it though. Mouth over-stretched and dripping with too much spit. He was too full and he had now the lost the ability to swallow. His tongue was abutting cold, now warming metal. Getting his brother off was now entirely down to Dean himself. Dean fucked up into Sams mouth, the boys' mouth now completely disabled by cock and gun. The gun rattled slightly as Sams' humping changed from gentle rolls to desperate thrusts.

One of the worst reasons when it came to Sams' depraved little games, was Dean's inability to last very long. He was proud that, as he got older he had learned to his prolong orgasm. One of the best things about maturing sexually, is the ability to deny yourself. Best orgasms ever, in Deans' opinion. But this fucking shit, it fucking shat all over that hard work and practice.

As Dean felt himself throb against the gun, he pulled it from Sams' mouth, unable to trust himself from blowing his brothers brains out when he shot his own desperate load. Sam whined at the loss of the metal, which Dean managed to make safe before placing it on the counter behind him with a clumsy clatter. His hands gripped Sams' hair as he fucked into his mouth, hissing loudly as he came as he lodged his dick deep inside Sams' throat. Sam coughed and spluttered, something Dean had learned Sam loved despite the gagging and retching.

“Such a good boy for your big brother. So good at taking it all, ain't you?” 

Sam nodded, tears streaming down his face, body still jerkily humping his brothers leg. Sam sucked and popped his mouth from Deans' still semi-hard shaft, his lips lingering around the head which made Dean shudder. 

“Come in your pants for me.” Dean growled out as he tipped his head back, clenching against Sams' dick.

“I want your thumb again, De. Want you in bed now.”

Dean let his head drop down, a smirk wrote itself out across his lips.

“C'mere.” Dean coaxed Sam up to stand. He pushed his jacket from his shoulders and undressed him slowly. “You want snuggles?”

Sam nodded from inside his polo and tee being pulled over his head.

“You want me to get you off while we snuggle?”

“Yeah.” Sam muttered softly as he kicked off his boots, watching Dean remove his own shirt and tee.

Clothes and shoes littered the floor from the kitchenette to the least soiled of the two fucked-messed beds in their room. Dean was already feeling sleepy and was keen for a post-coital nap but he needed to take care of the 6ft 4' of child-like depravity which was now curled around his naked body under the covers. Dean pulled Sam in close, his head tucked under Deans' chin. Dean slipped his thumb into Sams' mouth, who began suckling on it gently as soon it brushed against his tongue. He hummed and closed his eyes and then wrapped his long fingers around his dick. He stroked it gently, almost lazily. Dean felt Sam shudder every so often. He stepped back when they did this. Sam wanted the comfort. He wanted forgiveness for his perversions. Being held, stroked gently, sung to once in a while and given something familiar to suck, did that. Sometimes, he would cry. 

“It's okay, Sammy.” Dean whispered. His thumb tickled against Sams' tongue which more often that not left Sams' mouth pale and wrinkled. His free hand rested against the crown of Sams' head, finger circling a strand of hair, flicking it from side to side. “Get yourself off for big brother.” 

Sam nodded, whimpering around Deans' thumb which Sam sucked on a little harder as his orgasm built slowly. The whimper morphed into a soft whine as he came over Deans' thighs, his body snuggling for more comfort from his brother. Dean moved his hands from hair and mouth and pulled Sam in, rocking his body through his climax. Sam sniffed and snuffled into Deans' neck, nuzzling closer, softening dick resting spent and wet against Deans' leg.

“Such a good boy.” Dean kissed Sams' head softly. His own dick was betraying him, stiffening again. The fucking intimacy and closeness sending blood rushing to his should-be spent cock.

They would sleep now, for a little while and then it would be 'family business-as-usual.' Dean huffing around, lording it over his brother. Sam would be focused and blah-blah-blah. But for now, in their own private world, that not another living soul got to see. It was just them. Sam and Dean. One body. One mind. One soul.


End file.
